gen
khs 6/1'03
dhs 1J'04, 2J'05, 3ICHIBAN, 4i-monster
5/6/91
Cello, Piano
dhscodyb, dhssc
Desires
iPod nano
contacts
pumps
nice bag; tote or handbag
new clothes
new books
good grades--the best for the last!
Music
Sunday, December 10, 2006
An extract from a book I was reading.
Music- JOHN CAGE!!! OMG HE'S TERIFIC!
"Kiss me!" he pleaded. "No," she said, delighted and terrified. She would hold herself ransom. Oh, but she had never been able to stand suspense. A find drizzle spelled an ellipsis on the tin roof... Moments clocked by precisely and finally she couldn't bear it, she closed her eyes and felt the terrified measure of his lips on here, trying to match one shape with the other.
Just a week or two later, they were shameless as beggars, pleading for more. "Nose?" He kissed it. "Eyes?" Eyes. "Ears?" Ears. "Cheek?" Cheek. "Fingers?" One two three four five. "The other hand please?" Ten kisses. "Toes?" They linked word, object and affection in a recovery of childhood, a confirmation of wholeness, as at the beginning-- Arms legs heart-- All their parts, they reassured each other, were where they should be.
Now people, this is an extract from a book about Indian immigrants in America(shall not say which, but you'll know which if you're smart and well-informed). Comments?
I mumbled to myself not to mumble ever again- 5:08 AM
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